


Ecumenical Worship

by oceaxe



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Anal Sex, Christmas Morning, M/M, Morning After, Morning Wood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-18
Updated: 2016-12-18
Packaged: 2018-09-09 07:23:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8881168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oceaxe/pseuds/oceaxe
Summary: Arthur wakes up on Christmas morning to a surprise.
Written for thinkingaboutelephants, whose prompt was "morning." I got morning wood, Christmas morning and morning after rolled into one, I hope this is an enjoyable present for you!





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thinkingaboutelephants](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thinkingaboutelephants/gifts).



_7am GMT, December 25, 2010_

 

Arthur’s eyes slitted open just a fraction; he was pretty sure he wasn’t at home, but he wasn’t at all sure where else he could be. The quality of the light was all wrong; at his own place, the sun would be filtered through a sheer grey curtain, whereas here there was no barrier. Just the brutal winter sun stabbing into his eyes. He’d obviously hooked up with a barbarian. 

He had _hooked up_ with someone. And that someone was still behind him. 

It was - holy shit, it was Christmas morning. 

And just like that, the whole previous night came crashing down around his extremely hungover ears. Eames. Eames was behind him. Eames had-

Arthur became further aware of two important points. One, he was hard. Two, there was an answering hardness behind him and that hardness belonged to his colleague, whom he’d been capably putting off for years now. 

He stilled himself. It was vital that he escape without Eames waking up. He willed his erection down but it wasn’t listening, far too fascinated by the warmth of the body pressed up against Arthur’s back, the firm length lying all along the crack of his ass. Arthur took a slow, deep breath and was horrified to note that Eames smelled terrific; pheromones galore. Perfect. 

_No, no, that was a sarcastic ‘perfect’- shut up, dick._

Arthur tensed his muscles in preparation for a quick, elegant exit. 

“Arrrrthurrr,” came a rumbling voice in his ear. Too late. A hand came around his waist, pinning him in place, and his stupid cock leapt at the implication. He was trapped.

“Are you my Christmas present?” Eames mumbled into the back of his hair, running his hand up and down Arthur’s stomach. Arthur huffed in what he wanted to be exasperation but what was actually arousal. 

“No, you idiot. I’m Jewish.” 

“Oh yes, we verified that last night, my mistake,” Eames replied with smug smile in his voice. His hand slid down to Arthur’s still-hard cock, just barely grazing the head. 

“Well, do you have any objections to ecumenical worship? We could combine our respective celebrations, I’m sure I have some candles around here.”

Arthur rolled his eyes but found himself smiling. “It’s morning, you dork, and Hannukah ended weeks ago.” His body responded to Eames’ continued exploration without his consent, hips thrusting up into the touch, eager cock seeking more friction. 

“Can’t you just join in the spirit of the holidays, Arthur? Have a heart, don’t be a scrooge,” Eames moaned as he got a firmer grip on Arthur and rubbed his own prick up against Arthur’s cheeks. Arthur blushed fiercely when he registered that he was still slick from last night. A sense memory flashed through him - himself on his knees, Eames surrounding him, lips on his neck, cock in his ass, pistoning in and out like a fucking animal. Arthur’s eyes rolled back in his head as he pressed himself back against Eames.

Without letting himself think too hard about what he was doing, Arthur reached around behind and grabbed Eames’ cock, shoving it up inside of himself. Eames grunted at the sudden change in his fortunes, then quickly adjusted to it with a few testing thrusts up into the heat of Arthur’s body. It was plenty slick enough for Arthur’s tastes, and to judge by the low moans emanating from Eames’ throat, he was down for a little friction himself.

Eames rolled him over onto his stomach and drove deeper in with long, deliberate strokes. “Arthur,” he said, voice rough and catching on the vowels. “I want to open you up.”

“I’m, uhhhhh, pretty open right now,” Arthur panted into the pillow. 

“Wider. I want to ruin you.” He punctuated that with a series of brutal thrusts that pushed Arthur further up the bed, until he reached out with his arms to brace himself and push back into it. Eames growled and picked up the pace, impossibly fast. Then abruptly, just as Arthur’s climax was approaching, he slowed down, pulling all the way out slowly and then slamming back in, over and over and over. It was mindblowing. Arthur couldn’t cope. He writhed and mewled, trying to gain some control, but Eames had him pinned by his hips and there was no purchase to be had. 

Slam, slam, slam; it was speeding up, the heat between them ratcheting higher and making Arthur delirious. Why exactly had he held out against this, again? He couldn’t think. Didn’t want to. Eames was bending over him, whispering something in his ear, licking the shell, biting the tender lobe. Then he went still, loosening his grip on Arthur’s hip bones. 

Arthur moaned in protest, rocking his hips to try to get Eames moving again, but it was clear that he was just going to let Arthur hang. He shifted back, canting backwards, pumping his pelvis as best he could, and Eames grunted approval, bending down again to murmur, “That’s it, darling, milk my cock.” 

This was, hands down, the sexiest thing anyone had ever said to Arthur, purely judged on word choice alone. Combined with that voice, it melted Arthur completely. He took a split second to swoon then did precisely as Eames commanded, milking his cock with the muscles of his ass, the constrained but determined pivoting of his hips. Eames panted into his ear like a beast, poised above him, immobilizing everything but their groins. 

Arthur’s cock was trapped under him in the sheets, precome making them slippery enough to feel good but not enough to bring him off. He moaned in frustration, frantically humping the bed and Eames’ cock with every jerking motion. He was going completely out of his head. With no warning, Eames’ hands reached under him and pulled him up and back, drawing him up to his chest so Arthur was seated in his lap, trapped in the circle of his arms. Eames attacked his neck with his teeth and tongue and thrust up hard into Arthur, drawing a shocked cry from him. 

This, this was heaven, he thought dazedly. This was worth all the irritation, the chafing, the exasperation - no, this was _because_ of all of that, he realized. This was - wait, no, this was the _reason_ for that. Denying this was _causing_ all of that.

Arthur went a bit limp, letting Eames use his body, blissing out. If he was right about this, their whole relationship could be revolutionized by just - giving in. Letting himself have it. 

Like a present.

Eames pumped viciously up, pounding into him once, twice, then filling him with his come as his hand came down on Arthur’s desperate cock. Arthur moaned and came all over his fist.

Eames curled over him in the aftermath, just resting his head on Arthur’s shoulder, keeping him seated on his sturdy thighs. Arthur breathed into his rising sense of discomfort - not physical; physically he felt like he had attained his ideal state. He would just wait. Not anticipate. Not push. 

“That was exactly what I wanted, Arthur, thank you,” Eames murmured, and the double-entendre didn’t bother him at all. It was kind of sweet, actually. 

“Merry Christmas,” Arthur let himself say, and was surprised to find that he meant it.

“Happy Holidays, I think you mean,” Eames said into his neck, smiling.


End file.
